Alien Attack! No One Cares

The sheep baaed as they do in this community of sheep herders in central Pennsylvania on this dewey morning though sheep being the docile and unperturbable group they are no one thought to pose a question of the Big Sheep as they call him. Where did the aliens make landfall and why did they pick this faraway land with no great resources to seize such as a civilized attacker would think of doing. Why did they pick this sheep farm and why can't sheepdom report the truth of the invasion?

Respect: It's all about that
That's the curious part of attacking when you're an alien: getting respect for your attack from the media and being laughed at because you chose to attack a sheep ranch. We all know how notorious sheep are in comic lore for being apparently forlorn and melancholy though to my eye it is just a bad vocabulary for happiness which is the source of the sheep's perceived public relations problem. Who can imagine letting themselves being restrayned and being shaved of all their hair to aid and comfort the needy sheep farmers who callously require wool for their comfort. The sheep used to insist the stuff they now call wool was hair...the hair was a fashion statement and was coveted by the now skinny sheep.

Comfort the comfortable
"Comfort" Big Sheep says to his nearly deaf sheep friends who can't even relate any other stories than those related to that word. As a matter of fact they only related ideas to each other with expressions and pheremones. "Make the humans comfortable" the sheep dream to themselves as they fall into deep-sheep-sleep. It wasn't always the case that sheep dreamed of fluffy wool sweaters and puffy wool socks...merino wool was more than sheep could hear in their mind's ear. You see these sheep couldn't even say anything except for BIg Sheep who would occasionally and without reason say the word "comfort" to the others who as a matter of fact didn't have names, but they had dreams of names when in fact they were dreaming while sleeping.

Do you recall?
There was once a day--an era--in sheepdom when sheep communicated like we do with words. "Indeed we have the right to learn!" the famous leader of often recalled but never reincarnated sheepdom would say proudly and with vigor. His name was Big Sheep as the king of the sheep is also known today though his literary record is sparse today...his brethren--his family you could accurately state--have been reduced to a spectacle of being fodder for looms and yarn spinners.

Who can remember that fateful day in sheepdom history when the leader--Big Sheep--was brought into sheepdom court and was told he was required to surrender his text books. There will be no more reading for the purpose of raising the price of hair...that's what they used to call this stuff this stuff they know now as wool. We all know sheep require blankets as their unfairly gained hair (wool, if you please) is being given to always -cold humans! These sheep Big Sheep insisted need a living wage!

Who, indeed, can remember that day for the day Big Sheep conceded and forfeited his books-- the books which educated and made literate his sheepdom-- to the magistrate. There would be no more history of sheepdom. Big Sheep had no choice since the aliens had no mechanism for reason: they were misunderstood would be a succinct way of describing it today in 2011, but Big Sheep today are gaining a voice if only in comic circles to taunt the alien invasion force who were misunderstood.

I have a dream!
"I dream of a day when black sheep and white sheep can live together" we dream of Big Sheep saying though he still only reflexively blurts out "comfort!' as if under momentary pressure to provide a sound bite for the press. The press, you see, still insistes that Big Sheep be dealt with as we--the sheep shearers if you will-- have grown accustomed to being treated in the thing we call media. If you require more than seven seconds then you're talking too much. The always-shivering humans-- that's us-- only get seven seconds, too.